“Your daughter.”
The ballroom erupted.
Portia shot to her feet.
“That is a disgusting lie!
Emerson, say something to your mother!”
Emerson stood beside her, flushed.
“Mom, stop this!
You can’t make these insane accusations in front of our guests!”
Rosalind felt that defense tear away another piece of her.
“Emerson,” she said, “I texted your personal phone this morning begging for help.